


A life already lost

by Supernatural1999



Category: Original Work
Genre: Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Hospital, Torture, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8944153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernatural1999/pseuds/Supernatural1999
Summary: Dylan Jackson is a soup chef for a crappy hotel and has been for two years. He works alone now after the other three left and has just been told that an order has been put in for five pots of his soup – for a mob meeting. He soon meets the family –an English born mafia family who have lived in New York for 45 years. He soon finds out that he has more connections to this family than anybody would have thought and that they’re rivals are now targeting him for his association with them. He is the son of one of the women members who was married to his father before they were killed.





	1. The life of a soup chef

Chapter one

Nobody ever thinks they’ll end up working as a crappy cook in a crappy hotel when they tell their grandparents what they’re going to be when they’re older. I however, hadn’t kidded myself when it came to where my future was going. Out of all the subjects that I failed in, making average pots of soup had been my speciality. It had disappointed my adopted mother to no end and argument after argument, I had stopped speaking to the entire family. That had been three years ago and I had been working at the Poor Man’s dinner for two years. Every day, I checked in, dumped my duffel and threw on the white – with questionable yellow patches – chef’s jacket. I was the only worker left now, after the other three had left. It had been something about not wasting their cooking skills on a shit hole like Poor Man’s dinner. I had no problem with the place myself, but some people were just picky.  
Today had been like any other day: slow and uneventful. I had arrived at six in the morning and started on chopping up the vegetables. By nine, I had moved onto slicing up several joints of beef, which I’d later dumped into the simmering water. Most days ended with me supping a full bottle of Jack Daniels to alleviate the boredom. Now I was just sitting around, drinking and stirring the soup. My Boss, Jackie had come in earlier with a scowl on her face and screamed when she saw the half empty bottle of Jack in my hand. I had been treated to a lecture on work place professionalism, to which I had just nodded my head at and smiled. I never understood her snooty attitude when she as the owner of this place. She’d left in a huff and I finished off the bottle.  
Something was tapping. It was faint but quick. I sat up slowly as it seemed to grow nearer. The knife I’d used to chop the meat, still dripping with blood and fat, appeared in my hand. Though I had zero fighting skills, I brought the knife up across my chest and crept forward, grabbing onto a skillet as I did. It never hurt to have more than one possible weapon at your disposal.  
A child appeared round the corner, pushing open my door. She was wearing a white little dress, with a blood red bow wrapped around her waist. Her hair was done up in loose curls and her feet were covered in black brogues with a buckle across. Her frilly little socks had small red dots on, matching her headband, which had the same pattern. She was staring at me and I stared back, unsure what to say. I lowered the knife and set it on the side.  
“What are you doing down her, girl?” I tried not to sound too harsh.  
She blinked and clutched at her dress. I saw her eyes filling and softened my tone.  
“There’s a lot of dangerous things round here, you know? Wouldn’t want you little face ruined would you now?”  
She shook her head frantically and her curls swung around too.  
“No you -“frantic shouting interrupted our conversation and I watched as more people filled up my kitchen. A man was at the forefront, a gun drawn as he pointed it at me. I scrambled backwards, knocking over a chair. It banged up against the old cooker, where one of my pots were cooking and I watched as it tipped over. Yellow chunky soup decorated the floor as well as me. My jacket had a few more stains and my hair now smelled like carrots. It burned against my skin and I shot up, forgetting about the mob in my doorway, and running to the sink. Twisting on the taps, I shoved my whole head under and sighed in relief as the pain ebbed away. I must have been there for a couple of minutes before I heard somebody coughing. Lifting my head a little, a turned my eyes and saw the man staring at me strangely. I glared at him, angry that my audience had been the cause of my pain. He shifted slightly, lowered his gun and looked at me with his nose stuck in the air, studying me with a barely concealed sneer. Beside him were a man and women. They had on black suits and both glowered at me as well. I stood up and saw that the little girl was surrounded by a couple of guys my age. I realised how much of a slob I was, compared to these guys, who were dressed in suits that probably cost more than my shitty little apartment.  
“Who are you lot? You want something?” I raised my voice, trying to show them I wasn’t intimidated by their fancy shoes. The oldest man, who seemed to be in charge, stepped forward and said,  
“Who we are isn’t important sonny” His accent held a hint of something else but I couldn’t put my foot on it. I scoffed and pointed at the mess on my floor.  
“Well, now I’m a pot short for the dinner. So, thanks for that!”  
They looked at the soup and the remaining pots still cooking with revulsion and the little girl squeaked out “I’m no eating that daddy!”  
Offended by the rug rat, I glared at her before doing a double take.  
“Wait!” I cursed my luck and sighed resignedly, “You’re the guest aren’t you?” They all smirked and nodded, a few even laughing when I groaned. I would have gone on with my life happily, knowing I’d never have to meet anyone about to eat my soup but it seemed the world was out to get Dylan Jackson.  
“Well shit.”  
And with that, I turned round and went to get a mob and bucket from the cupboard. It was a mess inside and I had to fight my way through, cursing as I did.  
“What are you doing?” a squeaky little voice asked. I turned around sharply and saw the little girl standing in the doorway, clutching the hand of one of the guys. I stared at them for a moment before grunting and grabbing the mop, bucket dragging along the floor as I did.  
“Cleaning” I hoped to limit the amount of time that I talked to these people. The boss had said there were some important people coming around and I needed to stick in the shadows if I didn’t want my head on a spike. It wasn’t often that I listened to her but on this occasion it seemed entirely appropriate. But then my entire plan is ruined by a little girl.  
Back in the kitchen, they had all found a place to perch and were nosing around. Deciding to ignore them, I started mopping. The boss cleared his throat and said “Fine establishment you got running her, lad” I turned red when the rest of them snickered but kept cool.  
“Yep! Only professionalism here, mister.”  
Boss lifted up the empty bottle of jack and raised an eyebrow. I shrunk and clutched the mop against my chest, glaring at the cheeky idiot who had a nerve to question my life choices. I hadn’t had to deal with that for years – not since my family.  
An awkward silence descended on us and I shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable at the way they all stared at me. The little girl hopped on her feet, swinging her arms up and down. I looked at her, wondering why she was so…happy.  
The boss was looking at me more closely now, slightly squinting.  
I squirmed under his gaze. “What?”  
He seemed surprised I’d caught him but recovered quickly.  
“Nothing. Nothing…How long you worked here then lad?”  
I said nothing for a while, wishing they’d take the hint and go away but it seemed they wouldn’t be moving until I’d provided them with my life story.  
Clearing my throat, I answered, “Two years” he nodded, humming slightly before dragging his finger across the steel counter, slowly. I swallowed painfully, not sure where this was going and watched the little girl, still swinging.  
“Do you like it?”  
“It pays the bills.”  
I kept my answers short, wanting them to leave.  
Finally, after a few more questions on the hotel they left but not without the paring words, “Come up with your soup. The rest of the family need to meet you.” It wasn’t a suggestion and I struggled to stop myself telling him to shove it. Why the family needed to meet me was confusing.  
The soup was overflowing now.  
“SHIT!”


	2. Poor man's dinner

Chapter two:

Poor man’s dinner was situated in the parts of New York you don’t want to be in. Just down a couple of alleyways and across the street and you’d be there. I only lived a few blocks away and walked to work every day. I had no car and no clue how to drive and my old bike had been stolen the first week I arrived. It wasn’t until my third year of no work and sleeping rough did I come across the place. I had been walking past and saw an old sign saying: Soup cook wanted. NOW!  
The rest, as they say, had been history.   
It didn’t matter that I had never made soup in my entire life or that, even after looking it up in the library, my soup was shit. Jackie had just wanted a cook.   
I realised pretty quick that the place was a hot spot for the mafia. I had never come across them myself until today, and had been quite happy to keep that trend up. Now I was pushing a trolley full of the pots of soup and rattling dishes balanced on top, into the old elevator, hoping it wouldn’t pack in again. I didn’t want to get stuck in there after the last time. That goddamned music was playing again and I vowed to put a hammer through all of Jackie's records. I knew she did it just to spite me.  
The hotel was an old building and as such, had a big reception/conference room. I pushed the trolley towards the main doors and banged up against the wood. They swung open to reveal Jackie. She glared and I shrugged, pushing past her. The room was lit by a chandelier in the middle of the room, directly above a circular table. I resisted the urge to smirk. Did they think they were in some kind of King Arthur legend? Sat around the table, were men and women of all ages. I saw the boss sat in a larger chair, with a woman sat beside him, their hands clutched together. They both tracked my movements as I went over to the side table. Everybody had gone quiet now and watched as I heaved each pan up onto the table. Jackie stood beside me, slamming the plates down.   
Once everything had been set out, I turned to the people and said “soups on.”  
The little girl slid out from under the table and ran to the boss. She jumped into his lap and loudly whispered, “I don’t wanna eat that, daddy.” She couldn’t do discreet if it was hitting her in the face. Granted, she was only a little child but he’d been taught manner by the time he was her age. The woman must have been her mother, judging by the harsh whispers and the little girl’s sad face. She looked back at me and said “sorry.” I smiled at her sullen tone and said “don’t sweat it kid. Tastes like shit anyhow!” Jack kicked me hard and my eyes watered in my effort no to cry out. She had to do it on the leg that had only just heeled from being broken, didn’t she? Sadistic cow.  
The people around the table chuckled and the boss called out “Leave the boy be Jackie – at least he’s honest.” My boss just scoffed and turned on her heel, marching out of the room. I could hear her muttering to herself, no doubt insulting me, and rolled my eyes.   
Turning back to the audience, asked “your rang?” I made sure my voice was dripping with sarcasm.   
The boss laughed and I watched as the rest followed suit like little sheep.  
“I never caught your name boy?”  
No… Because I didn’t give it, you creep. Thank god the ability to read minds hadn’t been proven yet.   
“Dylan.” Silence.  
“Dylan…what?”  
“Jackson” The room temperature seemed to have dropped the moment I stopped.   
“Jackson, eh…You from around here Dylan?”  
“No!” They weren’t getting where I was born. I mean – I didn’t even know where I was born.  
He seemed to understand I wasn’t going to be giving more than that and nodded, still smiling. He spooned up some soup and brought it to his mouth. I watched with a strange sense of satisfaction as his face scrunched up. He chocked slightly, releasing a raspy cough and the woman next to him grabbed his arm with one hand, and a glass of water with another.  
The rest of the table seemed to have averted their eyes but I couldn’t find myself to do so. The little girl had climbed from her seat and ran over to me now, little dress flowing gently behind her. She grabbed my hand and shook it, saying, “Your soup made my daddy choke!” and preceded to hit me repeatedly. Nobody tried to stop her and I got the feeling that if I tried myself, I’d be on the receiving end of many guns. The boss seemed to have calmed down now and called out to his daughter, “Alison, you can stop now, alright?” Alison didn’t seem to have heard him above her screeching and hitting and he signalled to twin boys a couple of seats down. They rose immediately and walked over to us. Alison now had her legs wrapped around my legs and was pulling down my jacket. She pulled so hard that the shirt ripped, leaving me shirtless and the little girl on the floor. I took a moment to revel in her fall but was pulled up short by one of the twins grabbing my shoulder. Everyone had gone silent now and were staring at the tattoo on my arms. Even Alison was staring. I had gotten the thing a few years ago, on a drunken bender, by myself. It was a wolf’s face, tilted upwards and howling to the moon tattooed above it. Below its head, were the word “lupus” all done up in black ink. I only thanked god that it wasn’t colour. The boss was looking at me and asked in an almost gentle voice “Where you get that tattoo lad?” I shrugged, shoulders hunching and wrapping my arms around myself.   
“Couple years ago. Went on a bender and got it.” I kept it short and bent down, grabbing the jacket and shrugging it on. Gathering the soup pots, I put them back on the tray, knowing nobody was going to eat it. I quickly turned the trolley and started rolling towards the exit, ignoring the shouts begging me to “Wait!” I just ignored them and carried on, straight into the elevator, passing by a fuming Jackie. Before the doors could close, hands forced them apart and the twins forced themselves in. I pressed my back against the wall and cowered slightly under their glares.  
One of them pulled out a needle from his pocket. Seriously. Could they get anymore cliche?  
I tried to run around them but was grabbed in a choke-hold. One twin lowered me to the ground and held my thrashing limbs. I couldn’t do anything but watch as the needle was plunged in my hip.   
The world was becoming fuzzy now, vision blurring and an intense feeling a wanting to sleep washed over me.  
“Shh…don’t fight it. Let its do its job”  
I decided resisting was futile and let myself be swallowed up by the darkness dancing across my vision.  
The last thing I heard before I blacked out was, “Sarah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!!!


	3. A new development

Chapter three

I stared at the young man who had managed to turn everything in on its head. I had him lain down on one of the tables, devoid of that hideous soup that he had concocted. The boy seemed to have a wicked streak in him, going by his triumphant look the moment I swallowed that soup. I liked that.  
I had been the head of this pack for years and had never met somebody like Dylan. From the minute I met him, he had reminded me of one of our family and had kicked myself for not realising sooner who he was. I remember Sarah and her long red hair and blue eyes. And I remember Spencer, with his strong face, white blonde hair and pale skin. Dylan had inherited his whisky coloured eyes and pale face. His raven black hair was hard to believe, given his parents genes but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was from his father’s side of the family. Nobody had learned much about Spencer in the years the pack had known him and then he died. Sarah had been the only one to even have some sort of a clue where her husband had come from but even she hadn’t been privy to everything.  
Looking at Dylan now, I hated myself for losing him. Sarah and Spencer had been killed in a planned hit and run twenty three years ago now and not a day went by when I didn’t blame myself. It had been my job, as a relatively new member, to make sure that Dylan was safe, having been in the car at the time himself. I had managed to get him away but something had happened and I’d hidden him in a storm drain. I thought he would be safe but when we went back for him, he had disappeared.   
From that day on, I had made it my job to never let that happen again and made my way up in the ranks, eventually becoming the alpha. It varied in our culture. Some packs let the eldest born be in line, some the most able, some were planned while others were unplanned. My pack however, was different. You could work your way up from the bottom to the top over a period of time and then it was down to three tasks that had to be completed. The victor became the Alpha.   
Dylan whimpered slightly, turning in on himself and kicking the blanket on the floor. I chuckled, finding it hard to believe that the little baby I had changed diapers for was now a fully grown man. Of course, he hadn’t lived to become the man I knew Sarah and Spencer had wanted him to be. We had talked to Jackie the moment Dylan was out and found out a little about him. Apparently he was adopted into a family that he hadn’t had any contact with for five years. He didn’t finish high school and had always struggled in education, having problems with his reading and writing.  
Jackie had met him three years ago, when he came in half drowned and looking for a job. She had suspected he had been homeless for quite a while and knew that he had rented out a cheap one room apartment the moment he could afford one. That and his soup was shit was all she knew.   
The others were sitting around the room, smoking and checking up on security. My wife Zara had Alison a few chairs away and was feeding her segments of an orange. I swear the only way to shut that girl up was feeding her an orange. I looked at Zara and we locked eyes. My wife was beautiful. The first time I saw those dark blue eyes and long black hair, I knew she was the one. Zara came from the Amazonian pack, who I had been doing business with at the time. She was the daughter of the second in command and had walked into the room at the time of our meeting. From then on, we went on a couple of dates before officially courting. Zara had accepted my proposal a few years later and we had moved the pack from England, where I had been born, to New York. A year later and Alison was born. She had been a surprise to say the least, given we’d been told Zara couldn’t conceive. When the baby had been born, we’d decided to name her after my mother, who died when I was just a teenager. I had come from a poor family and when I was fourteen, both my parents had died within the space of a few months after being diagnosed with untreatable cancer. I had grown up in the system, staying in an old orphanage in a rough part of Sheffield. As soon as I turned eighteen, I’d taken the money from the job I had for three years and booked a flight to New York. Being young, I hadn’t thought of what I would do and had ended up on the streets. Pick-pocketing and making dodgy deals for creeps in alleyways became my life and I couldn’t get out of it. All the money I made was stolen and then I only had enough to feed myself. Thank god for soup kitchens.   
It wasn’t until several months after I’d arrived in New York that I’d met the pack. I’d been doing a run for a client as usual but had run into Devil’s crows. They were the packs main rival and were responsible for our less than savoury reputation with the locals. Their current leader had been a step down from taking over when he had ran into me, literally.  
He’d been walking down the sidewalk and I’d been running when we both collided. To cut a long story short, there had been a fight before the pack got involved and took me in. Silas had been their alpha at the time and he became my father.   
Now, looking down at Dylan, I was saddened to know that he’d grown up clueless about his family.   
Alison screamed, “Daddy!” and I jumped. How the little rascal always managed to sneak up on me, I’ll never know.  
I swung her up in my arms and propped her against my hip, looking into her deep green eyes.   
“What can I do you for, baby girl?” She squirmed, leaning towards Dylan and I plopped her down on the table beside him. She crawled onto him and laid an ear against his chest.   
“What you doing there, Allie?” she hummed.  
“Listening to his heart.” I smiled fondly at my little girl. Sometimes I wondered how such a small girl had such a big heart. She certainly didn’t get it from me. Must be her mother.   
“Good girl” Alison giggled quietly, hiding her head in Dylan’s neck.   
Dylan jerked, arms automatically wrapping around the girl curled up on his chest, and sat up quickly. His eyes were wide and he near threw himself from the table, huddling into the corner of the wall he’d fallen into.  
I watched as his hand went to his neck, no doubt, feeling the sting where the needle had gone in, his face contracting with discomfort.   
Alison was watching him now, eyes searching. She lifted a finger and dragged it along his jaw, unafraid of the two wild eyes fixed on her. I shifted, ready to grab my daughter in case he did something. He didn’t though. Just started at Allie.   
“Hiya Dylan!” her voice was bubbly and I winced, remembering Dylan’s earlier reaction to her being in his kitchen.  
Dylan jumped at her voice, wincing when his head connected with the wall. He flailed for a while before sitting on his elbows, glancing around confusedly. I chuckled, taking pity on his addled mind and put a hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing it soothingly.  
He relaxed slightly, still groggy from the medication.  
“What-wha-t happening?” he stuttered, tripping over the words.  
“You’re alright! You’re alright!” I tried not to be too loud.  
He winced, bringing a hand to his neck again and looked at me, a questioning look in his eyes.  
“We couldn’t let you leave, Dylan. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”  
He asked, “Why?”   
I stopped, debating on whether or not I should tell him when he was drugged to the gills.  
Shaking my head, I smiled at him, before grabbing Allison, who’d been sitting on the chair, and walking to the door. I nodded to Neal once the door closed and watched as he went inside, signalling Johnny to lock the door. Dylan wouldn’t be pleased but there was no choice. If word got out the missing pack member had turned up, then there’d be blood.   
I couldn’t risk anything now. Nothing.


	4. Family?

Chapter four

Dylan blinked, impatient for the floaty feeling to go away. He was pissed that they’d had the nerve to stick a needle in his neck. Was it really too much to ask to be left alone? Was there a massive sign on his head, saying, hey! I’m free. Come screw up my life!  
Propping himself up on his elbows, he blearily looked around the room, seeing one of the guys from earlier standing at the door. He was late thirties and had dark blonde hair with blue eyes. I could make out the gun he had on display against his hip and struggled not to role my eyes (partly because it would have been painful). He was watching me, smirk on his lips and eyes passing over me. I flushed, not liking the way I probably looked. I pushed up, needing to get out of here and winced as my feet hit the floor. The room was going in circles but I pressed down, finally finding my balance.   
I had made it two steps from the table when a voice stopped me.  
“Where you going, Dylan?” I clenched my fist at his condescending tone.   
“Back to work!” I carried on walking but stopped when his hand clamped down on my shoulder, halting me mid-step.   
“Can’t let you do that Dylan.” I scowled and shoved his hand off me.  
“Yeah? Why not then?” He chuckled and started to drag me back towards the table, dragging a heavy blanket from a chair on his way. He forced me to lie back down and threw the blanket over me, making sure I was wrapped in it. I struggled against it, not liking being treated like a baby but my attempts were fruitless. He smiled and clasped the nape of my neck gently, before straightening and knocking on the door. I heard a click and he was through. The lock clicked back into place after him.  
I struggled, pushing against the fabric and smiled when it began to loosen up. Being careful not to make a sound, I unravelled myself and pushed off the table, fighting off the dizziness.   
I smirked, remembering they didn’t know this hotel backwards the way I did. Two year worth of exploring and I knew the place better than Jacki did.   
I stumbled to the corner of the room, and crawled under one of the tables. Lifting up the carpet, I grabbed the latch of the trapdoor and pulled it up. It led to the basement, where I could get the exit.   
Dropping down, I forgot to tuck my knees and had to walk off the pain for the next few minutes.   
This place had been owned by one seriously paranoid guy and he had put in all sorts of secret passageways and rooms. It was like Winchester mystery house.  
I had uncovered most of them but still found new ones overtime I went exploring, unknown to Jacki of course. The lights were flickering as a got closer to the exit and I fist pumped.  
“Dylan!” Dylan!” Shit! How the hell did they find the door? Wait! I forgot to close it.   
Their voices and footsteps were getting louder now and I picked up the pace.   
As soon as I pushed through the exit, I was in the parking garage. There were a few cars there – most probably the clients own – and I ran up the next level.  
A car screeched in front of me and I veered off, running towards the exits. I could hear them running behind me and whimpered. What did they want? Was the soup that bad?   
New York was busy with the midday rush and the upcoming Christmas rush. I dodged around shoppers, ignoring their enraged shouts and ran into a small coffee shop. Choosing the back of the café, I sat down and shoved the menu up in my face, ripping off the cap I had on. Hopefully nobody saw me come in here.  
“What can I get ya, hon?” I jumped and looked at the old waitress. She had to be pushing seventy, still going round in roller-skates and blue dress.  
I cleared my throat and dug out a few bills, “Coffee please”.  
She nodded, smacking gum and skated away. I looked around nervously and stopped dead when I saw the boss looking through the window, straight at me. The guy who wrapped the blanket around me was standing there too and I swallowed as they both walked in. I watched as they stopped at the counter and ordered. Avoiding looking in their direction, I started to slide from the booth but was stopped by a hand. I saw it was a woman. She had long black hair that was braided down her back. She was the Bosses wife. She forced me to sit down again and sat next to me, caging me in.   
“Thank you, Zara dear.” The boss slid in opposite to me, other guy next to him.  
“What the hell do you all want with me?” I struggled to keep the fear from my voice.  
The boss smiled at me and stuck out his hand. I shook it confusedly.  
“Let’s start again, shall we?” I nodded wordlessly and he smiled widely.  
“I’m Isaac Roberts, Alpha of the Pack.” Did he expect me to know what the Pack was?  
I just nodded, hoping he would allude me to they were.  
He seemed shocked but carried on when I made no move to indicate I knew who he was.   
“We’re the mafia if you will, of this side of New York.”  
I dipped my head in acceptance and asked “And you want me…why?”   
Isaac grabbed his wife’s hand and looked at me with burning eyes.  
“I thought I’d lost you years ago Dylan. I knew your real parents. They were members of the Pack – so were you.”   
I sat frozen in my seat, wondering why they were playing such a mean joke on a soup chef and asked them as much. They seemed surprised by this.  
“I’m not lying Dylan. I knew your parents – they were my best friends, you know? Helped me get to where I am today.” He seemed ready to burst into tears now and I was stunned that such a powerful leader would be reduced to this by me!   
I sucked in a breath and asked, “so what do you want with me?” Isaac couldn’t answer me and Zara nudged the other guy, “Neal”.  
Neal nodded once and started talking, “Some people are going to want to kill you now Dylan. Now they know who you are, nothing will stop them gutting you like a fish.”   
I shuddered, cursing my rotten luck.  
“Why? They don’t know me!” Neal smiled sadly at me desperate tone. “The will soon Dylan. They will soon.”   
I stood up abruptly, having enough of this and glared down at them.  
“Stop lying to me!” With that, I jumped over Zara and quickly walked to the exit, throwing down some money on the counter on the way out. I ignored the pleas to come back and continued walking into the heavy bustle of people, fighting back tears.   
……………………………..  
My apartment was a cheap one bedroom in the rough side of town, a couple of blocks from the hotel. I had lived there once I started getting more money and had made the place a home. The paint was peeling and I only had a bed and kitchenette but it was home.  
I threw the keys down on the counter and raided the fridge, coming up with a bottle of coke. I would have preferred bear but I drank all that the other night. I flicked the answering machine and listened to the first few messages.  
Dylan! It’s your mother. I know it’s been a few years but your brother’s baby has just been born and he wants you at the christening. So please, just come. He needs you.  
Beep.  
I know you’re there little bro… look, I know things were said but can you just come to the christening. Please!  
Beep.  
Listen up shithead – you’re rents due next week and one more missed payment, you’re out!  
Beep.  
God, I hated the landlord. He’d been on my back for months about the rent. I had the money ready and waiting but rent wasn’t due till the end of December.  
I sat down on the bed and flicked on the old box telly. It didn’t have the best picture but I managed.  
Settling on some reality programme, I sat back and thought of the voicemails. Did I really want to go to a christening where the people I fought with were? Was it really worth all of the hassle?  
I sighed deeply, hating my life.  
First, I find out that I could be on the hit list because I made some soup for a mafia family – which they didn’t even finish.  
Then my adopted family wants to play happy families. I’d barely seen the kids before I left and I had no idea why they wanted them to see the uncle they probably didn’t even remember – I doubt my brothers and his wife, Jessabelle (horrible woman) had told them.  
This was all my mother’s doing. It had her name written all over it.  
Well…it wouldn’t hurt to see them again really. I had missed them over the years. No argument would stop me from being thankful when they had taken me in. I had been on deaths doorstep when they’d seen me, a product of one too many bad foster homes. I had never revealed what happened but they had a pretty good idea. That was the problem with foster homes. You knew they didn’t really want you – only the money and what word could a young kid hold over respectable foster parents. My social worker had probably been boning them all.  
Decision made, I turned on my side and hunkered down into the blankets, sighing softly as I finally let all of today’s tension bleed out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully i will be able to update regularly.  
> Let me know what you all think in the comments.


End file.
